She said no more, though she might have added that nothing but bitter compulsion would induce her to trust her darling to the tender mercies—mental and moral—of many women not of the “lower orders,” even of Florence herself!—whose motherly methods were by no means those of her sister. The registry office was kept in an old-fashioned house in an old-fashioned street. A few men, with that undefinable stamp which marks a manservant, were lounging about the door, while dotted over the pavement were groups of smart and voluble young women. Now and then one of them raised a shrill mirthless laugh. Lucy’s heart sank within her. “Of course, some of all sorts come to these places,” said Florence reassuringly. “Let me tell you these very girls would pass muster in any respectable house once they are arrayed in their caps and aprons. They put on their good manners with their livery.” Lucy wondered whether it may be true wisdom to insist on a garb which so easily becomes a mere domino in which very unexpected human nature may masquerade. “We shall have to go up to the second floor,” whispered Mrs. Brand. “The menservants are seen on the ground floor, cooks and head-housemaids on the first, and smaller fry, such as we want, on the second. Possibly lodging-house keepers interview their little slaveys in the attics.” Women hanging about on the landings managed to make plain their contempt for ladies who were manifestly seeking a mere “general.” The front room on the second floor was so thronged that the sisters could scarcely find standing room. It was not easy to distinguish between mistresses and maids, for nobody was of a refined type, and in dress—at least, on first glance—all seemed equally smart and fashionable. A clerk of the office was edging about, note-book in hand. She was a red-faced middle-aged woman, wearing a dusty, jet-trimmed black alpaca gown. “A general servant is scarcely to be had, madam,” she said. “Then what are all these?” asked Mrs. Brand. “I thought this was the ‘general servants’ department.” “So it is. But most of these are general servants ‘where another is kept.’ They would not go as a single hand,” explained the clerk. “I must have one who will consent to do so,” said Lucy. Something in her low clear voice and simple decision of manner made the registry office clerk turn and look at her. This was not the style of mistress with whom she was best acquainted. “I will try to please you, madam,” said the clerk. “I fear there is nobody suitable in the house at present. But one may come in at any moment. A great many girls do not appear till about noon. May I ask you to take a seat? There is a sofa vacant near the window.” As the sisters took their seats on the shabby little sofa, two or three gaudy girls strolled past them, inspecting them from their hats down to their boots. Lucy whispered— “This puts me in mind of what we used to read about the slave marts in the States.”